Contested Intentions
by Lemonfresh
Summary: When everything else around them is changing, will the Heroine and her Villain find that their feelings for each other are as well? Kigo (KimxShego); shoujo-ai, femme-slash; you have been warned already.
1. Opening

**Contested Intentions**

A Kim Possible Fanfiction written by Lemonfresh (and pals).

Author's Note: Well then, good to see everyone again. At the moment, I'm feeling like a man of few words; and yes, I realize fans of Evermore are busting a gut over the irony right now; at the moment, so I'll make this quick. This is a Kim Possible fanfiction, set not too long after the end of the series, and yes indeed, it is a Kigo fic. So, standard warnings about there being shoujo-ai/yuri/femme-slash/girl-girl love in this fic apply. Much the same as with Evermore, I will tolerate flame reviews only if they include some form of constructive criticism beyond the idiocy, so please save me the trouble of having to delete your review and at least make an effort at that. This is a one-shot, so don't expect to get more following this, I'm swamped with work as it is. But, if there is a big enough positive response, then I'll consider turning this into a series. Last, but not least, I'll note that there's going to be a little surprise in the second chapter of this, and fourth too, really, that make this fic a little special, but I'll let you find out about those when you get there. Anyways, I hope you enjoy reading, and do drop me a line if you feel even the slightest urge to comment.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from the animated television show, Kim Possible, but I am not seeking to profit from this work of fanfiction in any way, so please don't sue, I don't have much cash as it is.

Some people say that nothing ever really changes. Day in, day out, get up, go to work, come home, go to sleep, the same crap every day of their miserable little lives. No matter what unexpected events occur, whether it's the death of a loved one or burned toast in the morning, the world goes on turning, and life continues on just the same. I say those people are fucking idiots. Everything is always changing, nothing ever stays exactly the same, no matter how desperately some wish it would.

My life used to be simple enough: I was Alpha Female in the crime world, able to steal anything at the drop of a hat, working for a mad scientist just pathetic enough to awake that single shred of pity in my being, thus allowing him to afford me. He came up with hair-brained schemes to take over the world, and I'd facilitate them by stealing what was necessary for them, and almost inevitably, we'd be stopped one way or another, most often by the teen super spy/heroine extra-ordinaire, Kim Possible. Really, I got paid to steal things and fight people, a job I would have killed for, if it had been necessary. But like I said, unlike what the idiots of the world seem to think, nothing ever stays the same for long.

A very good example would be recreational activities. My needs in that area are very simple, I like to go somewhere that I don't have to deal with anyone or anything, where I can just kick back and relax for a week or so. But, in typical fashion for my life, all the hoops always seem to _need_ to be set on fire, and it turns out to be very difficult to find a place utterly devoid of the sludge I call humanity. It became even more difficult when I found out that my lovely little deserted island, miles away from anything else at all, had just recently become the latest, hottest resort and tourist destination on the face of this earth. Just to be on the safe side, since terrorizing the resort itself would defeat the purpose of taking a vacation from super-villainy, I beat the fishing boat captain that had brought me to the island the last few times within an inch of his life.

Oh, don't give me that look, you'd do the very same thing in my position, and don't you deny it. Christ, making me think of Possible and those damn looks she's always giving me, like she's so disappointed in me . . . Oh, yeah, that's another lovely development, while Kimmie only keeps getting better at what she does, Drakken seems to be on a downward spiral. Don't believe me? When was the last time _you_ were stupid enough to think you could take over a country just by making the Department of Internal Affairs stink to high heaven? Yeah, _right_, don't even know why I put up with the guy anymore . . . The money helps, still paying the same exorbitant fee as usual, which is more of a change than you think.

Normally, I would have extorted another pay raise out of him by now (ah, ah, ah, ah! Don't even start.), but I've noticed that things are even more pathetically cheap around than usual. He may be paying me the same, but he seems to be putting only half as much as he used to into general operations. I wouldn't have cared much, except that if there's nothing else I care about in this job, no other perk worth mentioning, there _was_ job security, because I've always been indispensable to that blue nut. And that's even more important now, what with the way the villain community has gone south.

A couple, like DNAmy, have gotten out of things completely, retired to an easier, simpler life. The rest are starting to lay low, going after only smaller targets that won't put them on the radar and bring the wrath of Kimmie and/or Global Justice down on their heads. Yes, you heard me right, ladies and gents, villainy is in a recession. Which means that, unlike previous times, when I could toss Dr. D to the curb at the drop of a hat and have a hundred other evildoers of various forms clamoring to snap me up, now I'll most likely be unemployed for quite some time, and I don't like that idea. It means that I don't have control over the events that affect me, my own life, and I've always hated being kicked around by circumstance.

Here's the _best_ part, though: that **is** what's going to happen. I can see it in the way Drakken's been acting for the last month, ever since Possible defeated that "Ultimate" plan of his, but even before then, really. Doesn't laugh anymore, at all, doesn't show me inane little plans that aren't even really plans half the time, hell, he doesn't even try to talk to me anymore. It's . . . a little disturbing, to be honest. He's not himself, more like a ghost or a shadow of what he used to be. I think the Princess finally broke his spirit, killed his "too dumb to quit before he embarrasses himself" perseverance. And that means I'm going to be out of a job.

Even I've changed, not as much as some other things in my life, but still. Not too long ago, ruling the world sounded pretty cool, not so much so now that I think about all the worthless crap I'd have to deal with, even under an absolute totalitarian regime. Awhile ago, I wouldn't have shed a tear at my contract with Drakken being ended, one way or another, even if I was going to be jobless without him. But now, he's become like a whining little puppy, and as much as I hate to admit it, I can't kick him away. I've become soft. Much the same, it used to be that I would have danced a jig at the news that Kim Possible had bitten the dust. Now, I'd be sad, if for no other reason than because it would mean I'd never get to fight her again (I swear, if you pull any of that, "awwwwww," crap with me, I'll burn you to the ground).

I respect Kim, because she can fight better than anyone else I've ever seen, and most of all, because she respects me. Kimmie's changed too, really, she's gotten older, more mature, more skilled, more intelligent, and most of all, more beautiful. She fights even harder than she used to, really makes me **work** for my paycheck. Normally, I'd resent that fact, except that I enjoy the work far too much to care that I'm doing it. I feel good, alive, when I come back to the lair after a fight with her, covered in perspiration, my heart still thundering in my chest. I've watched her progress over the years, and I know exactly how she's come to the point where her fighting is like a dance: precise, powerful, and unbelievably fast.

Joining her in that dance so many times over those years, I think I've let myself get too close. She respected me, I respected her, we fought each other with everything we had, and eventually, we didn't even need a reason anymore, if we had simply bumped into each other on a busy street one morning, we would have busted right into it. We stopped really trying to hurt each other a long time ago, we just wanted to test one another, wanted to know which of us was the best, wanted to see who would break first. And neither of us have, only making each other better through competition. I don't care, I **want** to make her stronger, I want to make her the strongest person she can be.

I think I actually love Kim Possible, as absurd as that concept is.

The mirror before Shego, in the tiny bathroom of her room in the lair, shattered into a million little shards of glass and clattered to the tiled floor around her feet. Slowly, she pulled her fist away from the place on the wall that her mirror had previously occupied, and examined her knuckles. They were bleeding a little, from lacerations caused by the glass shards as her punch broke the mirror apart.

"It hurts." She muttered, anger flashing in her green eyes. "I'm soft." Barely, Shego caught the sound of Drakken's subdued voice calling for her to hurry up, so they could leave.

She said nothing in return, simply pulled off her glove, wrapped her knuckles in a little bandage, and then put on a new glove. She really wished she could say it was the "same ol', same ol'," but she knew that it wasn't.

* * *

It's funny how nothing ever seems to go the way you want, isn't it? All anyone ever really wants is for everything to stay the same, even teenagers, despite their protests otherwise. Change is hard, and the biggest change of them all is growing up, and as the song says, "everybody knows it sucks to grow up, and everybody does." I drive, for example, because that's a necessity of growing up and becoming an adult, although I don't have a car of my own anymore. After my first three got crushed, torn apart, and/or exploded, mom and dad kind of decided that I could do without, especially since all three went to the scrapheap within the same week.

Another problem with growing up is school: I'm done with Middleton High now, and it's time to go on to college, and that's never easy. Have to find a suitable school; and by extension, decide what you want to do with the rest of your life; and that makes your friends an issue. Though most kids don't realize it until it's too late, friends don't often last past high school, because when college hits, everyone has to go off in different directions, it's virtually inevitable. To be brutally honest, I'm not sure what I want to do with my life, there's so little I could do that would still let me be Kim Possible, the girl who can do anything and saves the word on a weekly basis, but I'm also not comfortable with dedicating my _entire_ life to just that. Ron knows what he wants to do, that one Home Ec. class ages ago changed his whole outlook on life, he wants to be a chef, maybe not quite like Emeril, but he does know that he wants to cook food for people for his living. Monique is a little unsure of things too, but I think that no matter what it ends up being, her schooling is going to take her out of state. And Wade . . . Wade might always be there, I suppose, but it will be just like always, he won't really be _there_, he'll just be able to talk to me.

It's all really strange, and difficult to deal with. Ron, I think, is just planning to go wherever I go, just like always, just like he did in high school, taking all the classes I took, so we could be together . . . we got into a relationship, not too long ago, just like everybody expected us to, eventually. It didn't work out, but so not the drama, we both got over everything, and we're just as good of friends as before. Mom and dad were a little sad when they found out that we weren't together anymore, but they were glad that we were at least still friends. That's the other thing, getting ready to go away for college, it changes the way you feel about your family. Thinking about leaving . . . it makes me miss even the tweebs, even though I haven't picked a school yet. I've always had mom and dad there for me if I needed them, which more than made up for the occasional embarrassment, so realizing that I might be so far away in a couple of months that I couldn't even call them up on the phone because it could cost so much . . . yeah, that is **so** the drama. But it's something I have to deal with, otherwise I won't be able to go on with my life. And I know I can do it, I'm Kim Possible, anything is Possible.

That's an interesting subject now, saving the world and all. The villains . . . I don't know, they're getting _old_ or something. Word on the net, according to Wade, is that a couple of them have actually retired, dropped out to lead an easier, quieter existence. I don't buy that for one minute, but hey, if they're going to take a break, I won't complain. Dementor, Killigan, Monkey Fist, the Seniors, even Drakken and Shego, all of them have been really quiet. Ever since that time, a month or so ago, when I foiled his attempt to lobotomize the entire earth's population, Drakken hasn't even made a peep. Or hadn't, at least, considering I'm getting ready to go out after him now, at a Top Secret Research Facility hidden in the Andes. Still, I think something is up with him, at least, he's been talking a lot less when we fight, not gloating nearly as much as he used to. Even when he almost had me beat that last time, for all intents and purposes part of the concrete wall and under guard by Shego, as his laser prepared to fire on the refracting satellite in orbit, he barely said a word, almost seemed to expect me to stop him. Which, I suppose, he rightly should have expected, but that's not the point. He just isn't the same Dr. Drakken that he's always been, and that's a little disconcerting.

But Shego, Shego's the same as she's always been. Strong, dangerous, and a tongue like a bull whip, those are the traits I've always associated with that woman, and she still has all of them. And, as is fairly common knowledge, Shego's the one who makes all of Drakken's ridiculous schemes possible, mainly because she can go toe-to-toe with me and actually win half of the time. She . . . always makes me a little sad, because she could do so much more, for good or evil, if she'd just leave Drakken behind. Of course, I don't think she really can, even though she probably realizes as much. It's not a trait of Shego's that most can pick out, but I think she'd make a wonderful mother, a quality I might envy in her, if she displayed it more often.

I'm not very good at the whole, "motherly instinct," thing myself, as my few times of baby-sitting Rufus have shown plainly enough. Really, **Ron** is a better "mother" than I am. But yeah, Shego is the villain you watch out for, because she's just too good at what she does, and knows it too. And her flagrant disregard for any and all things that could be considered laws only makes that more of an issue, no qualms about doing whatever it takes to get the job done. She's got determination like you wouldn't believe, and against me, she doesn't back off until she's got no other choice, it's a little frightening, sometimes. Of course, I can kind of understand why, it's not as though I'm any different, never slowing down, never stopping, and certainly not ever giving up, until I come through for the win.

Although I think that's one of the main reasons that her being a villain makes me so disappointed, not because she could do so much good in the world if she set her mind to it, really, but because she reminds me of myself, far more than I care to admit sometimes. Stubborn determination, a belief in what we do, fighting ability, intelligence . . . it is scary. I get so upset because I'm worried that the same thing could happen to me, and I don't want it to. Worse, being around her . . . it brings out parts of me that I never even knew existed, before I met her.

I've never thought of myself as a violent girl, yet from the very first moment I saw Shego, I knew that I wanted to fight her, more than anything else in the world. It was like a fire burning in my chest, but it didn't really hurt, and it felt so wonderful when I finally fought her for the first time. It's hard to explain our . . . relationship, for lack of a better term, largely because I don't really understand it myself. We fight, with everything we've got and at every opportunity, but we're not trying to hurt one another, we're not _enemies_ anymore. We banter and toss sly insults and scathing retorts back and forth, like master fencers fighting with words rather than swords, yet I respect her, and I feel that she respects me too. It doesn't really make much sense, any of it. It feels . . . right, somehow, but not _righteous_, not the same kind of feeling I get from knowing that I'm stopping evil and keeping the world safe for another day.

It's like . . . like we're supposed to fight each other, were _meant _to fight, were made to do it. Coming home from a mission against Drakken, I feel relieved, stronger, like I'm a better person for having fought her. As if . . . it's like . . . I feel . . . I don't know.

Shego . . . she's . . .

"KP, come on!" Ron yelled from outside the door to Kim's room. "If you don't hurry up, we won't be back in time to hit Bueno Nacho _and_ get to the orientation at Middleton Community!" The, now young woman, heroine blinked, before smiling just faintly and pulling her black crop top over her head.

Even if growing up did "suck," Ron had always made that easier, and Kim had to thank him for that.


	2. Commercial: The Sin of Virtue

"Author's" Note: And here's your surprise, twin commercial breaks in this "episode's" continuum. I openly admit that I did not write these myself, but that's kind of the point, and would like all the readers making their way toward the Report button at the moment to note that both of these works were written specifically by their author's for this very purpose (Read: I asked them to write the commercials for this, and they did). The author of this one is Ryuujin Blue Z at FanFiction Dot net, and is a "coming attractions" sort of thing, as the fic isn't done yet. But you can still check out the other stuff he has posted up, if you like this.

The screen fades to black, and then suddenly bright white letters burst onto the screen accompanied by the familiar, deep voice of the Movie Trailers Voice Overs Guy™.

"Coming soon to a movie theater nowhere near you, to a channel no one actually watches, 'The Sin of Virtue'! The all new Fullmetal Alchemist fan fiction story by an utterly unknown author!"

A marvelous vista expands out into the distance, seemingly to the ends of the world, apparently ignorant to the viewer's presence among the splendors of nature's beauty. Most notable among these majestic sights, the marching lines of shimmering emerald huddled at the feet of their steadfast purple masters. Dew-speckled grass sparkling in the brilliant midday sunlight to match the twinkling of pristine snow caps. The jagged ivory peaks, and their gem-hued companions, wrapped around a medium-sized village, a quaint little mining affair that had yet to visibly let out the secret of its prosperity. It was quiet now, though, a dark cloud seeming to hang over the community both figuratively and literally.

But the scene changes, the village fading from sight to be replaced with a slightly more utilitarian, professional setting. There's a simple white hall, unadorned and unbroken but for the occasional window or door. In the case of the former the view is lacking in the earlier's glory, presenting the darkness of night even further deepened by the oppressive blackness of storm clouds with the depressing portals broken only by the occasional and cold cracks of icy-pale lightning. The screen itself focuses upon a woman, either just shy of her middle-ages with a somewhat hard life behind her or a step into those in-between years with an easier existence at her back, standing before one of the doorways that split up the lengths of mundane walls with splotches of stark earthen brown. Her clothing identifies her as a Dog of the State in a glance, her posture suggesting that she might possess enough rank to require her to set positive examples for any that might catch sight of her. Before her the wood falls away, swung open with sudden speed to reveal a man's hand that has seen days and times that would break lesser beings clenching a rather thick and reasonably long rod of metal. Even as it's extended towards her bright blue electricity sparks its way along the material, stretching it out toward the woman's face in the form of a rapidly forming sword. The screen goes black once more, with a suddenness that shocks the eyes and leaves an afterimage of the previous moment burning on the retina.

"He is a State Alchemist, sent to protect a woman and a town he doesn't even know, master of all that slices and dices."

The words flash away, leaving a fading imprint on the empty screen before scenes of action appear. A large man, tall and filled out in such a fashion to suggest both great strength and great speed, long brown trench coat flying outward from a body cloaked in the traditional uniform of a State Alchemist. Each hand is tightened to the point of white knuckles around bars of grey metal wrapped in shimmering blue fire, transmutation twisting the structure of the material to his whims. And even as this image remains blasts of various other poses dart across the screen, showcasing a handful of weapons being artfully called to the man's aide. A scythe can be seen, as he charges forward. Then there's a flail swinging leisurely, a staff that quickly shifts into a spear, even what appears to be an axe before the overlain image dissipates with a final flash of bright white to reveal the very same man with his transmutation complete. A katana in each hand, he darts down a shadowed alleyway after a small, swiftly retreating form as the screen slips back into the inky darkness.

"He is a little boy, bent on the extermination of humanity."

True to the words preceding the images, a small child can be seen walking quietly down a sidewalk in what appears to be the same olden village from the first set of scenes, a quiet smile upon his face. A sense of innocence is in that expression, childlike glee twinkling in his dark chocolate eyes as a breeze ruffles short and unkempt blonde hair. After a moment, the boy disappears through a doorway with a final glimpse of his youthful face seemingly twisted into a more sinister grin, a heartless glint to those eyes, before the screen once more fades to the by now familiar black.

"Fullmetal Alchemist: The Sin of Virtue!"

Scene after scene rushes the screen, the quaint village in the mountains, the military woman traveling with the man in the trench coat and another boy only a bit older than the one previously seen, and that little blonde haired boy. Again the Alchemist and his bladed weaponry is seen in action, slashing at targets unseen to the viewer, as ghostly images placed over the peaceful hills. And then these are gone, following the same path as the previous clips.

"Coming soon!"

One last image appears, the man in the brown coat bent over with a single bar clutched to his chest, faint lines of transmutation energy sparking along its surface as blood drips from his hands. The screen zooms in on his face, just as he speaks. His voice comes out weary, haggard by exertion and anger.

"Some things are more important than truth…"

_Specific content may vary based upon author's whim. No purchase necessary. Odds of the fic actually being good vary depending on the reader's blood alcohol level and recent drug intake._


	3. Middle Stretch

A gloved fist cut through the air, but was intercepted on a bare forearm long before it reached its full momentum. Without delay, a strong, straight kick followed it, but was evaded easily by the lithe form it had been aimed at. The counter, a side kick aimed high and for the shoulder was only just barely avoided. A punch, pure and simple, acted as the retort, but was caught in palm and stopped dead, and the same happened to its cousin, which came in opposition to the original's owner. Thus locked, each holding one of the other's fists, Kim and Shego entered a lull in their combat.

It had started instantly when Kim arrived with Ron, neither truly in the mood for engaging in the obligatory banter this time, and once Ron and Drakken ran off to play their game of cat and mouse, the two were alone with their battle. But, for once, it simply wasn't enough for Shego, not by itself.

"You know, on the way here, Dr. D told me this was going to be his last time." She commented as they struggled against one another. "He's going to let you guys hand him his backside one more time, and then he's retiring." Shego couldn't hold it back, she needed Kim to know.

Or rather, needed to know how Kim truly felt about her, now that they weren't going to see each other again, even if only for a time.

"He is?" Kim cried in surprise, and sensing an opening in the form of the other woman's distraction, Shego went to play her trump.

Even as the jet-haired sidekick concentrated to bring the flames of green plasma into existence around her hands, she felt Kim's foot impact the underside of her jaw with devastating force, knocking her head over heels and away while the cheerleader finished the back flip that came out of the original kick.

"What about you, Shego?" Kim asked, even as she fell into a ready stance, waiting for the green and black clad criminal to get up from where she'd fallen.

With a chuckle, Shego found her feet again, and played at her jaw just a little to make sure it was still in relatively good, working condition.

"Dunno," she responded simply, having ascertained that she was no worse for the wear, beyond a cut on her lip that was sluggishly dribbling blood.

Immediately following that, Shego's whole body threw itself into a lunging leap, blazing hands leading her strike with their deadly heat, and Kim knew from experience that the only way to respond to that particular assault was to dodge. Even though Shego left herself open to numerous counterattacks with such an aggressive form, none of them were guaranteed to stop the dangerous combatant, and just a touch of those hands could cause immense damage. And so, Kim leapt back, landing several feet from where she'd been and where Shego landed, smoothly dropping into a crouch to avoid the twin bursts of blazing energy the villainess fired even as she landed. From that position, legs coiled beneath her, the heroine sprang straight for her opponent, and only just barely managed to throw her arms up before her head in defense, as Shego anticipated the move and countered with a solid drop kick.

The blow sent Kim flying away, though Shego could not immediately pursue her, leg numbed by the combined force unleashed when her kick met the impetus of Kim's attack. So, when the cheerleader-turned hero expertly turned the tumble into a controlled roll and came out of it in a crouch, she had a moment to speak.

"Seriously, what are you going to do?" The green eyes that looked across the distance between the two combatants were hard, determined, and Shego smiled faintly, knowing that Princess wasn't going to let her shrug off the question.

"I really don't know, actually." She tested the leg first, shifting some of her weight onto it for a moment, and when it held she began a leisurely stroll toward where Kim now stood. "I'm not retiring, but it's going to be hard." Briefly, she glanced in the direction that Drakken and Ron had retreated, up a ladder and down a catwalk into the distant and out of sight areas of the facility. "I'm too damn used to having him around." She muttered darkly, a twinge of anger entering her voice.

And, out of the corner of her eye, Shego caught the aspect forming in the green depths of Kim's eyes, the emotion of sympathy. It was bad enough that she was so soft as to actually _need_ someone as worthless as Drakken, but to be getting sympathy from her opponent? She wasn't going to stand for that, she didn't want Kim's sympathy for her "plight," she wanted her fist, her strength.

"You seemed a little less _close_ to the sidekick this time around, what's up with that?" The jet-haired criminal asked as she continued to draw closer to the other woman's position, hoping to shift the focus of the conversation and get that look out of Kim's eyes.

The question struck Kim, almost visibly, and her eyes fell to the floor, expression unreadable.

"We're not really together anymore . . ." Despite that fact, she was still able to turn aside the punch that Shego threw in her impatience to get fighting again.

"Why's that, he seems like a nice enough buffoon?" The criminal continued, even as she threw a right hook and a left jab combo straight for Kim's face.

The first caught only air, and the second briefly slid through the heroine's fiery mane before it finished following her down into her crouch, which rolled instantly into a powerful uppercut that Shego only just barely managed to catch.

"I . . . dumped him . . . for . . . another guy . . ." The younger woman growled out, though with no real malice, through her gritted teeth as she struggled against Shego's superior position, leverage wise.

A lightning fast disengage and sweep, though, dumped the green and black clad villainess onto her side on the ground, at Kim's level.

"What happened to the- . . ." Shego's question was interrupted by a strong grunt as she blocked a kick from Kim with her forearms. "The new squeeze?" She managed to finish, before rolling away to avoid the next kick, and by the time the jet-haired woman found her feet again, her flame-haired foe was waiting for her.

"Lost interest." Kim answered simply, even as she struck at Shego with a fast series of punches and kicks that left the suited villainess scrambling to dodge and block every one, leaving her no time at all to even consider counter attacks.

As was often the case with such a form of attack, though, Kim's all-out assault was difficult to maintain, and soon her flawless form faltered. Shego saw her opening, dodging Kim's next backhand and then catching and trapping it in the crook of her elbow, locking the heroine to her. Then she struck with her right fist, crushing it into Kim's stomach with vicious force. The attack knocked the orange-haired woman back and away, as Shego's other arm had automatically released the lock when a throb of white-hot agony rolled from her right arm and into her body. Through the haze left behind over her mind by the stroke of anguish, Shego dully realized that she'd probably managed to embed a shard of glass in her knuckle when she broke that mirror, causing such pain as it was crushed further between the bones in her hand by that punch.

Having been forced to take several moments to regain her ability to breathe after such a devastating blow, Kim fully expected to find Shego standing over her, one foot planted on the heroine's chest in victory, when she opened her eyes. Instead, she found the green and black clad woman standing in the same place they both had been before that punch, her right shoulder sagging and arm hanging limply, green eyes glazed over with pain.

"Shego?" Kim asked worriedly, taking a cautious step closer to the other woman as she did so.

As soon as the flame-haired dare devil's voice reached her, though, Shego snapped out of it, growling as she righted her body and brought her fists up in a boxer's stance. Even if Kim hadn't seen her until then, though, the blood staining the knuckles of Shego's right glove would have given the whole thing away regardless.

"Shego, you're hurt . . ." Kim whispered, her voice burdened with an emotional pain that had sprung up in her the moment she realized that the criminal was injured.

"What's it to you, Possible?" Shego snapped in response, clenching her fist so tightly in her anger that the bloodstain nearly doubled in size, excess pressing through the fabric of the gloves to run down her arm and drip to the floor.

"Did I . . . did I do that to you?" Kim queried hesitantly, misinterpreting Shego's sudden surge of anger, feeling as though her heart had been cut and she was bleeding to death inside, at the thought that she might actually have harmed Shego.

And, at the sight of the flame-haired Princess' obvious torment, Shego's anger dissipated like so many wisps of smoke in a strong wind.

"No, not really." She said quietly, looking down at the floor before her feet. "I did it to myself." Her fist unclenched with the admission, and for a time, there was only silence between the heroine and her villainess.

Then, quite suddenly, Shego found Kim holding her right wrist in one hand with the utmost care, while doing her best to gently remove the glove that covered Shego's injured hand with her remaining hand.

"What are you doing!" She cried, trying to wrench her hand from the younger woman's grasp, but found that Kim effortlessly followed its movement and kept her delicate hold on the suited criminal's wrist, refusing to allow it to slip from her grasp.

"I'm going to take care of it, it's the least I can do." Finally, the concerned heroine succeeded in removing the glove, and couldn't help but gasp at the virtually soaked through with blood bandage that remained wrapped around Shego's knuckles.

Snarling in rage; at her own weakness, at Kim's attempts to take care of her, and most of all, at the part of herself that so desperately wanted Kim to **care** for her; Shego struck out at the cheerleader. To her chagrin, it was evaded with ease, as were the next six, all while Kim kept her tender hold on Shego's wrist and carefully unraveled the bandage from her hand.

"Oh my god, what did you do to yourself, Shego?" The younger woman's distress only became more prevalent in her voice as she finally viewed Shego's injuries, all the glass cuts reopened and some even made larger and more severe by her exertions.

The torn villainess' answer was nothing more than a roundhouse kick, which Kim vaulted without even being conscious aware of doing so, as far as Shego could tell, and that only stoked her rage further.

"God dammit, Kim, I want you to fight me, not care for me!" It was at that moment, as Shego shouted those words at her, that it finally clicked in Kim's mind.

She cared for Shego, that was the only way to explain why it wounded her so deeply, that Shego was hurt, and . . . why it frightened and saddened her so much that she might never see Shego again after that mission. She hid it well, but that knowledge had been weighing on Kim's thoughts since the very moment that the soon-to-be-unemployed sidekick had mentioned that fact. Now the true question needed to be answered, exactly how much did she really care for Shego?

"Stop, Shego, just stop." The green and black clad villainess didn't listen, didn't _want_ to listen to what Kim was saying, and slashed at her with a plasma charged hand, finally forcing the younger woman to abandon her hold on Shego's injured hand in order to avoid the attack.

But Kim's will was adamant, she refused to let it go on any longer.

"I'm not going to fight you any more, Shego, you're injured, you need help." At the words, rage boiled up in Shego's eyes, turning their normal green to a livid shade.

There was something more than fury there, though, another emotion that Kim thought might well be fear.

"What, did you suddenly lose your spine, _Kimmie_? Too scared to keep fighting me, coward?" Shego jibed venomously, trying to force the fight out of the heroine, but Kim was unfazed, realizing the truth behind her facade.

"No, I just don't want to hurt you, I care too much about you to risk that." She sidestepped the flying kick Shego unleashed at her pronouncement with ease, the move made clumsy and predictable by the furor that fueled.

"Why!" Shego screamed at Kim as she brought even her injured hand to bear in a vicious flurry of claw swipes, the plasma flames enveloping the berserk criminal's hands coming close enough to burn a few hairs from Kim's head.

But the younger woman was totally in control, and though the ferocity of Shego's attack had initially caught her off guard, it had become pathetically easy to avoid by that point. In fact, she didn't even need to watch the villainess' movements, she needed only to stare straight into Shego's green eyes, and all became plain to her. But, as she stared into those viridian depths, Kim saw something else as well, namely the mercurial currents of conflicting emotions running through them.

"Why are you doing this to me!" Shego roared, throwing her head back and closing her eyes so that Kim couldn't look into them any longer, not wanting her to pierce the veil. "Why are you taunting me like this, dammit!" A blaze, an unstoppable inferno of green flame gathered about her raised hands, and Kim's eyes shot wide open.

It was her instinctive dive straight for Shego that probably saved Kim from a great deal of pain, as she slipped just below the unleashed holocaust and then hit the enraged criminal dead center, bowling her over and precluding any further attacks. Of course, Kim's instincts hadn't counted on the possibility of awkward positioning, for example, her face being planted rather firmly in the cleavage of Shego's breasts. So, her face covered in a surprisingly flattering cherry-red blush, the cheerleader got the enjoyment of apologizing profusely to her arch-nemesis, who was staring down at her with eyes just about ready to pop out of their sockets and a similar blush, though Shego's was tinted with just the faintest shade of green as well.

"Oh my god, I am **so** sorry, She- . . ." Kim's apology stopped dead in its tracks when she felt arms slowly wrap around her body, one slipping about her waist while the other crossed her shoulders, just before a hand laid itself on the back of Kim's head, gently pressing it down.

For just a moment, she felt a gentle pressure shifting the hair on the top of her head about, but then it was gone, as was the hand on the back of her head. Looking up, she found Shego gazing down at her, a smile on her almost serene face.

"You know, I always wondered what that'd be like." She murmured without taking her eyes away from the younger woman atop her. "I love the citrus, and with that little hint of lavender . . ." It broke, though, as Shego's expression twisted, wrenching sadness destroying the perfect harmony. "I wish I could fall asleep . . . to that smell . . . every night . . ." At that point, Kim was virtually thrown from her perch on Shego, a loss that the cheerleader's body felt quite acutely, as the suited villain scrambled to her feet.

And, staring at the back of the older woman, watching as the waves of her midnight black hair rippled ever so slightly with the silent sobs that Shego didn't want Kim to see, the girl who could do anything realized exactly how serious everything had become. She wasn't sure then, if she really loved Shego _that_ much, in turn. But what she did know, what she was sure of, was that she couldn't stand to see her upset like that. Thus, she stood up from where she'd been thrown, and took a deliberate step closer to Shego, making sure that her footfall rang quite loudly.

Words are such an inelegant form of communication. Blunt, clumsy, lacking in subtlety except when wielded by the most skillful of linguists, and easily misinterpreted, they were simply not suitable for the information that both women needed to convey then. And so, Kim fell into her ready stance, legs set wide apart to lower her center of gravity and strengthen her balance, body shifted sideways to present a smaller target for attack to her foe, and hands held up before her, one almost straight out, and one held high and back near her face, a balance of offense and defense. Instead of speaking through foolish words, just as likely to shatter like poorly made glass sculptures and cut one another with those broken shards of meaning as to convey true meaning, she wanted them to speak from their souls, with the purest form of communication known to man: competition, struggle, fighting, combat. So intricately tied to the souls of both women and absolutely separate and inviolate to the tendrils of the normal world, the battlefield was where the two could "speak" and be heard, away from all else but one another and their own feelings. They would fight, and they would find out the truth.

It took a moment or two, as Shego's arm came up to, presumably, wipe away what tears were in her eyes and on her face, but finally, she turned about to face Kim. She did not ask why the heroine was suddenly interested in fighting her again, did not need to ask, she simply raised her injured hand and flexed it, clenching and unclenching a fist. Satisfied that it wasn't causing her _too_ much pain, she smiled and fell into her own stance. Kim acted first, closing the distance between them with startling celerity, but stepping off just as she came within range and into a spinning backhand that Shego only just barely managed to get her forearm up to block. Surprisingly, the blow ghosted off of her guard, like waves breaking on a rock face, revealing Kim's true emotion: she would not hurt Shego, could not with care and affection guiding her blows. The green and black clad criminal flowed effortlessly into the action, back-stepping the right hook that followed on the heels of the backhand, and then slid flawlessly into a barrage of hits, a few of which scored on her offensively oriented foe. Shego's strikes were not quite as gentle as Kim's, less like breaths of air on the skin and more like playful, childish shoves, but still they were just as benign in nature, just a little more whimsical.

Kim hopped back on one foot to escape the attack, and Shego eagerly pursued, only to catch the younger woman's boot right in her stomach, stopping her dead, but then evaporating from beneath her without effect. The criminal smirked at the cheerleader, who smiled impishly in return, and nodded to acknowledge her point. And then she was right before Kim, arm catching her around the neck and under the chin, bearing her to the ground in an unstoppable throw, which conveniently allowed Shego to also run her fingers through Kim's silken mane as she brought the girl to ground. Kim "impacted" the ground with all the force of a child being lain down for bed, and even as she struck, her hand caught on Shego's shoulder, one pull overbalancing the villainess onto her kneeling leg and bringing her right down beside the heroine. Neither took any particular hurry in getting up, but when they finally did, they were smiling. They stepped apart, distancing in preparation for the next round, and when they were finished, they turned to face one another. And then, they moved.

But this was nothing in the linear sense of the word, from point a to point b, this was life, activity, a virtual dance step. They were moving, shuffling, stepping, shifting, sliding, rolling and bouncing within a rhythm, a fast step that was set by the beating of two hearts in synch, as one. The distance between them shrank, even as they didn't appear to be actively approaching one another, as if they were being drawn together by an outside force, by magnetism, by sheer attraction. They came together, and blows flew in a sublime explosion of activity, so many being traded so quickly that it seemed utterly unreal, otherworldly even. What was even more amazing, though, was the fact that not a single one of them actually landed, despite the perfection of form that each and every attack possessed. So in tune were they then, the heroine and her arch-nemesis, that they both knew exactly what the other would do before they even did it, making the battle a perfect stalemate, absolutely futile to continue fighting.

They didn't care. The competition didn't matter then, seeing who was ultimately the better wasn't their concern. They kept fighting because they wanted to know, to realize and express the feelings that neither could put into words, yet. But even then, they fought each other because they simply loved to face one another, wanted to fight, in one way or another, for the rest of their lives. They realized as much as they clasped hands and locked elbows, seeking to cancel their ability to retreat in any way, and in that moment, they stopped. Their bodies and souls were assured, but there was still one part of them that needed to _know_, their minds.

Due to being the most "rational" of the three aspects that make up an individual, the brain can often be the most foolish of the three, lacking the ability to simply believe in something without concrete proof.

And so, still so close to one another, arms locked together, they gazed into each other's eyes, mirrored viridian lenses showing the same emotions. And they leaned in closer, a touch of nervous energy now in those eyes, until each had the other's ear, lips so near that they could feel them trembling in anticipation of the words that would soon pass over them. And, with a faint, hot breath each, they went to whisper the truth only to each other, so no one else could hear.

"Shego, I . . ."

"I . . ."

"KIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIM!" The obnoxious voice fairly echoed throughout the whole compound, and as soon as its reverberations touched their ears, Kim and Shego were virtually thrown apart, as if by some unseen force. "Kim, I stopped Drakken all by myself!" Ron cried from on high, standing on the catwalk just above the two, drawing the eyes of both the heroine and the villainess to his position as he hefted the defeated doctor up onto the railing. "I didn't even need Rufus' help!" He added, the naked mole rat in question popping up out of his pants pocket and nodding affirmatively.

"Yeah-huh."

"The final disgrace . . ." Dr. Drakken muttered, his spirits obviously broken, and as if cued by the mad doctor's words, Global Justice agents came pouring into the facility in droves.

Shego looked back to Kim, expression torn and eyes wracked with an indescribable agony, and the girl who had thought she could do anything returned the look, as the realization struck her as well. The moment was gone, there was no time left, and it was over. The criminal turned and bolted, effortlessly battering her way through whatever obstacle presented itself in an attempt to impede her escape, be it an agent of Global Justice, a super computer stack, or a simple office chair. Shego succeeded in doing that, reaching the outer wall of the building and simply blowing through it, because Kim had stood there and watched her go, unable to even try to stop her.

She was so terrified, frightened to the very core of her being, that she would never see Shego again, and that thought broke her heart in two. Almost more paralyzing than the fear, though, was the knowledge that there was nothing she _could _do. If she stopped Shego, GJ would just take her into custody, and there was the fear that they might finally succeed in holding her, in that case. Kim's knees buckled, as she watched Shego's form vanish into the snowstorm raging outside the research facility compound, and dumped her to the ground in a heap, oblivious in her despair to Ron's worried calls of her name.


	4. Commercial: McDonalds So NOT Loving It

"Author's" Notes: Same as before, I didn't write this myself, but since its actual author whipped it up specifically to be a commercial in this fic, I don't see any possible way that she could object to it being here. Regardless, this one is by Supremia at FanFiction dot Net, and naturally doesn't coincide with any of her fics like the first did. But she does have quite a few fics up in her profile that you really should check out if you like this. Personally, I'd recommend her The Best Highschool Fic Ever Reloaded, it's quite funny.

BADABABABA

We enter an establishment that thrives on obesity and human sorrow: McDonalds. A couple of handsome 'Gen X-ers,' one, a tall blonde, the other, a slightly stockier brunette, both clad in the common garb of all college students, a hooded sweatshirt with a quirky political statement and a pair of jeans. They peruse the menu, and the blonde begins to speak.

"Dude, you know what us guys are like?"

"No, man, I don't. What are we like?"

"Like…a Quarter Pounder cheeseburger."

"What?"

"Well, first, we look pretty ordinary, right? But we've got all these layers."

"Uhh…?"

"These luscious, delicious layers. There's just something about guys, you know?"

"Um, dude? You're kinda…scaring me."

"And there are so many things you can do with a Quarter Pounder cheeseburger. Or have. Like fries, or candlelight dinners…"

"…Yeah. Um. I'm going to…bye."

"Wait! Wait! I've got a better example! Guys are like parfaits! They taste great with whipped…hey, what the hell are all of you people staring at?"

BADABABABA McDonalds! I'm lovin' it! (Or kinda liking it, a little, because I think it might be interesting and sort of funny, until I start to question my best friend's sexuality. So I guess I'm really not lovin' it at all. Damn. )


	5. Closing

More than a month after the incident at the Andes Research Compound, Kimberly Anne Possible was walking the streets of Middleton late at night, fresh from a party she hadn't had the heart to stay at any longer. It was a chilly night, only made more so by her typical attire of a midriff-less tee, a pair of jeans and no coat, but that was a minor inconvenience for the "girl who could do anything." The cold was nothing compared to the lifeless feeling that had consumed her ever since that day. As she walked, she pulled her arms tight around herself, trying to ward off a measure of the night's icy bite, as well as the empty feeling inside, imagining that the arms were not her own, but rather . . . the sound of a glass bottle falling and breaking on the pavement shattered Kim's forlorn reverie, putting her instantly on full alert, body falling into combat stance and eyes glancing about warily for any sign of a foe. As the silence of the Middleton night set in once again, though, Kim eventually concluded that it must have been the wind that caused the startling sound, and continued on.

And, hidden in the shadows of a nearby alley, Shego let a small sigh of relief slip from between her lips. Before that moment, she had been silently berating herself for the foolishness of staring at Kimmie's backside for a little bit too long, causing her to miss the trash can she had almost walked right into. Even noticing it at the last moment, she couldn't avoid knocking the bottle from the top of its garbage pile, thus necessitating her concealment of herself. Now, though, it was more important for Shego to get back on her trail. So, with just a little trepidation, she took to the roof tops of the houses crowding the small residential district, fearing that Kim might see her if she was out in the open like that. But the likelihood of that occurring was slim, it was a cloudy, moonless night and she'd also taken the precaution of wearing a heavy, dark trench coat over her suit, its bright colors far too conspicuous to be worn openly.

Obviously, she didn't want to be seen by Kim, but that was for a very specific reason. Watching her as she continued along the sidewalk, having moved to the other side of the street as a precaution, Shego wanted to know, to be sure of her feelings. She wanted to believe, so very desperately, that the words Kim had been about to say back at that facility were,

"Shego, I love you." Her heart, her soul, if that was what it should be called, told her it was so, with great, almost scathing conviction.

But even as Shego was one to often go with her "gut" feelings on a situation, she was also a very logical, realistic person. And, as all logic, probability, realism stood arrayed against the possibility of Kim Possible being gay and actually loving her arch-nemesis, much less allowing herself to, Shego was left between a very large rock, and a very hard place. Hence the tailing of the younger woman, seeking to ascertain whether or not Kim appeared similarly torn and heartbroken. Or; as Shego's more pessimistic side taunted; Kimmie even remembered her at all, after being rid of her for a month.

Kim certainly did remember Shego, since she was the only thing that the heroine had been able to think on for any length of time ever since that mission. It troubled her deeply, as she fought with her own doubts, though they were of a different sort. She knew, even in her own foolish mind, that Shego loved her, that much had become plainly apparent at that facility. She instead feared that she would never see the older woman again, would never actually get the chance to confess her own feelings for a myriad of reasons, including the possibility that Shego had taken her life after what happened. The young women with the mane of fiery-orange hair smiled bitterly as that thought crossed her mind, knowing how utterly absurd it was to think that she actually mattered _that much_ to the criminal. But the possibility was still there, and that was the problem with the brain: when left to its own devices, all it can do is calculate probability of events and examine situational scenarios, making even the most improbable and disturbing crisis seem completely likely, even inevitable. The pain of this knowledge showed through in Kim's viridian orbs, as their lids slipped closed just slightly to try and stop the tears that always came at the macabre images brought to mind by the thought of Shego committing suicide.

And that fact was not lost on Shego, crouching catlike at the edge of the nearest rooftop. For the briefest time, her own mind tried to rationalize away Kim's behavior, suggesting that she could have been hurt at the party by some poseur who turned out to be far less than she had previously thought. It was at that point that the three aspects of Shego's being met in a purely metaphysical setting, wherein her soul and body promptly bitch-slapped her mind into submission, telling it to go consider what kind of sandwich they'd like to have later, while they took care of Shego and Kim's relationship. Thus, as her normal self-assuredness returned to her in a wave of warmth, Shego smirked mischievously and continued to keep pace with the young woman as she walked on.

Meanwhile, Kim had decided that she was going to walk on a little farther, into the actual "urban" area of the town, and use a pay phone to call a cab to take her home. So, in not too long, she found herself near an out of the way parking lot, using the pay phone located conveniently nearby, right up until she caught the dial tone that followed her insertion of exact change. At that point, she was forced to drop the receiver, in favor of having both of her arms up and ready to block the kick that flew in straight for her from the darkness behind the only dimly lit pay phone. The attack landed solidly against both of her forearms, but did little more than a bit of cosmetic damage, as both would be bruised the next day. Kim leapt back following it into the full illumination of the overhanging street lamps, precluding any further assaults from the shadows. Nothing came after her, for a few tense moments, before a dark, vaguely-human shape burst into the light moving straight for her. She struck out at it ineffectually, realizing only after she tangled her hands in its form that it was nothing more than a trench coat, and for that mistake, caught Shego's next kick solidly on the jaw. The strike knocked the heroine flat onto her back and brought the trench with her, draping it over her body as she hit the asphalt hard.

Looking up at her attacker, even with the noise the nerves in her back were making over their mistreatment, Kim couldn't help but want to cry out Shego's name with a distinctly happy tone to it, though it wasn't actually vocalized as the younger woman was forced to roll to the side to avoid the villainess' blazing punch. An instant later she was on her feet, trench draped over one arm as she stood otherwise ready to fight, not bothering with any words at that point. They both wanted to see exactly what they still had.

The claws on her gloves made their presence known as Shego clenched her hands, and already burning with the plasma flames that were her trademark, they struck out at Kim with a swipe that she sidestepped, and were followed by a fast, straight kick. Unexpectedly, her foe put the trench coat she borrowed to use then, first blocking the kick with it's heavy cloth and then trapping her leg in its folds with a twirl and a twist. Kim smiled at Shego, and ducked just under her answering second kick, which dumped the criminal on the ground due to her lack of a leg to stand on, but at least forced the heroine to let go of the coat that held her leg.

Obviously, they were nowhere near as in synch as they had been a month ago, nor were their emotions as pure and unclouded as they had been during that fight, making the current one considerably more painful for both. Still, they understood each other, as both knew after Shego regained her feet and stopped to look deeply into Kim's eyes, and she into the villainess'.

"Kimmie." The green and black clad criminal said, addressing the younger woman with a smirk.

"Shego." Kim responded in kind, curious as to what Shego had planned, and naturally ecstatic inside at the sight of the older woman.

"Still as much of a fashion disaster as ever, I see." The villainess sniped lightly, her eyes taking in Kim's form with a once-over glance.

"So not. Besides, haven't you heard that green and black are out this year?"

"No on me, princess, I make it look good no matter the year."

"I'm sure, and what took you so long, too scared without Drakken to help you?"

"No, I just felt like getting a little sun and relaxation after freezing my ass off in the Andes. You look like you could use a little sun yourself, Kimmie." Shego noted, as the younger woman shivered in the stiff, chill wind that had picked up while they conversed.

"So not the dr- . . ." Before Kim could say any more, she was forced to catch the item that Shego had thrown at her, which was the trench coat she had only moments ago used in their brief combat. "What . . . ?" She asked, not quite understanding the gesture, and the criminal smiled easily.

"It's a gift, pumpkin."

"Thanks." Kim murmured with a hint of color in her cheeks, slipping the garment on gratefully.

After tying it closed with the attached belt, she nodded and looked back up to Shego.

"So, did you come off of your vacation just to see me, or did you have something else planned?" The corners of Shego's smile curled up into her usual smirk at the question, and she fluttered her eyelashes seductively as she spoke in response with a slight drawl to her words.

"Oh, a little from column a, and a little from column b . . ." As Kim stared at the villainess incredulously, she chuckled lightly and tossed her hair. "See, I am here on 'business,' but it involves you, so it's technically a bit of both, and . . ." She looked away, letting the curtain of her hair hide her face as she finished. "I did just want to see you."

"So . . ." Kim began almost immediately, though she paused a moment to try and suppress the blush that was creeping into her cheeks. "What's the sitch, then?"

"Oh, it's simple, I'm going to steal eight of the world's rarest and most valuable artifacts, relics, and technological advances, the greatest crime spree in history." Shego smiled wickedly as she continued, obviously enjoying the almost surprised look that came to her arch-nemesis' face at the declaration. "And it'll only be made more so, because you'll be on my heels every step of the way, Kimmie."

"You're going to announce a series of robberies?" Kim asked, utterly disbelieving what Shego was saying.

It just sounded so . . . disgustingly cliche'.

"Not to everyone, just to you, Princess." As the heroine favored her with a level look, Shego returned the stare, an almost feral glint in her eyes. "It's only half about stealing the stuff, and the other half is that it's going to be a competition between the two of us, to really find out who's the best, once and for all." Somehow, as she continued to watch Shego with a deliberately neutral expression on her face, Kim just knew that wasn't all.

The older woman grinned from ear to ear, like the cat that ate the canary, as she lay under that gaze, knowing exactly what Kim wanted to know.

"And what's a competition without something at stake?" She continued blithely, letting her eyes roll from the heroine, gesturing easily.

"What are you getting at, Shego?" Kim finally asked outright, caution and curiosity vying for dominance in her being.

At the direct question, and the undertone of interest in Kim's words, Shego smiled almost viciously, and snapped her trap closed.

"We bet, right here and now, that if I win, if I manage to steal all eight of the items, then you drop the goody goody act and join up with me as a thief, partners in crime." Before the heroine's quite vehement protests could even get free of her throat, Shego had a gloved hand up, one finger raised, giving her pause. "And if _you_ win, protecting or recovering all of the items, I'll go completely legit, even **consider**," her emphasis on the word was undeniable, "joining your little hero team." After the villainess spoke, there was only silence.

Which meant something all by itself, because it indicated that Kim was actually considering the proposition.

"And why do you only have to 'consider' joining Team Possible?" She asked at length, the more rational parts of Kim's being trying to some reason, any reason, to refuse the bet outright, without further consideration.

A look of disinterest crossed the villainess' face and she produced a nail file to work at the claws of her gloves as she answered.

"You've got Stoppable's help, whereas I've only got myself, so you get less reward for having a slight advantage in the contest." Kim almost couldn't believe her ears.

She was proposing a contest, where the consequence of her loss was that she would have to leave villainy and theft behind to live a normal life, **expecting** to lose. Even then, though, Shego was similarly surprised that she was still there, that Kimmie hadn't already sent her packing with an automatic refusal of her terms. It was a calculated risk on both their parts. For Shego, failure meant that she would have to give up her life of thrilling theft and easy money, whereas success would mean virtual domination of the crime world as she and Kim would undoubtedly form an unstoppable team. For Kim, victory would bring Shego onto the right side of the law and maybe even make her a part of the team, but defeat meant that she would have to leave her whole life behind and become a criminal.

The consoling fact of either outcome for both women, though, was that they would be together, no matter which way it went.

'Besides,' both thought at almost the same time, '**I'm** going to win.'

"Alright, Shego, you've got yourself a bet." Kim responded finally, her fierce and anticipatory smirk a virtual mirror of the villainess'.

"Glad to hear it." Nimbly, Shego sprang from where she stood, across from Kim within the parking lot itself, coming to perch atop a nearby light pole. "You've got one week from tonight to get ready, and then you'll hear from me." She stood as if to leap into the pitch black night outside the lot, but stopped right before doing so, as if unsure.

Kim said nothing, simply stood and watched the criminal, even as Shego glanced back at her over her shoulder.

"Good luck, Kimmie." She said, before hesitantly blowing the younger woman a kiss.

"Good luck, Shego!" The green and black clad thief was gone before Kim got the chance to return the kiss, but she still couldn't help her faint flush.

Either way, it really wouldn't be _so_ terrible, because afterwards, they'd be together.

Author's Notes: Alright, there you go, hope you guys enjoyed reading it. Like I said at the beginning, that is the end right there, as this is a one-shot, but if there's a great enough response, then I'll **consider** making it into a series. For now, though, I have the second half of a duo series fic to finish, so I'll maybe see you all again after that's done.


End file.
